


i think you're so good, and i'm nothing like you

by edgarallennope



Series: Good Omens ficlets [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:46:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallennope/pseuds/edgarallennope
Summary: “I’m fine, Angel.”“No, you’re not.” Aziraphale replied, matter-of-factly. Crowley blinked in surprise, and then sadly smiled.“No, I’m not. But I will be, eventually.”A short ficlet set a little after The Apocalypse That Wasn't. Crowley has been Not Great for a long while now, but he doesn't have to deal with it on his own anymore.(Title from 'Love Like You' by Rebecca Sugar)





	i think you're so good, and i'm nothing like you

**Author's Note:**

> y'all,,,,there is so much projection in this fic it honestly reads as self-insert. But I hope you like it anyways! This is my first Good Omens fic.

The shop smelt of old parchment and damp wool as Aziraphale closed for the evening, coaxing the aged wooden door to shut against the heavy wind and rain that had battered the building for the better part of the day. Although the angel was fond of summertime, there was something about rainy days that put him at peace. And it certainly kept Crowley happy.

“They’re gonna be chuffed about this one down below, I’m telling you. Think of all the colds, the runny noses. Phwoar, that’s really gonna mess up someone’s day.” He would brag, as if he had opened up the clouds himself. On his lazier days, he probably had. Any tally under his name he could get. Of course, now it was unclear what the demon's purpose was, he pondered to himself, the sobering thought yanking him from his moment of peace. Or  _ his  _ purpose, for that matter.

They had been left alone thus far, thankfully. Frankly, Aziraphale thought that after six thousand years of service, they had earned some holiday time. He had even invited Crowley over to stay, safety in numbers and all that, right dear boy? He agreed immediately, driving up with nothing but a car full of potted plants and some clothes. They now easily found a home amongst the well-tended to tomes and ancient ornaments that littered the storefront. Most days, Aziraphale busied himself tidying the shop whilst Crowley splayed himself out on the sofa in the corner. It’s not like they saw that much business, anyways. 

Today, Crowley was sitting by one of the windows, sunglasses off and a tartan throw draped around his shoulders. He had said very little the past few days, which concerned the angel. Getting a moment of peace with the demon can sometimes feel like a victory, but the silence was becoming grating. 

“I think,” Aziraphale declared, “that this is the perfect weather for hot cocoa. I have some in the back that I picked up in Sri Lanka a few years ago, still good. What do you say, Crowley, can I tempt you?” He teased. He was met with a noncommittal shrug. The angel smiled sadly and headed towards the kitchenette on the shop floor. 

Crowley was having one of his low periods, but Aziraphale didn’t know this yet. Aziraphale had thus far been successfully shielded from these moods by Crowley himself. It wasn’t something he was especially proud of, and certainly wasn’t something he wanted to share with the only good influence he had. Despite their jokes, corrupting Aziraphale was the last thing Crowley would ever want to do. If he did have to see Aziraphale on bad days, he would do his best to mask it, not make it obvious. But today he was just too tired. It was days like this that the nagging voice in his head grew louder and louder.

_ Worthless, stupid demon. Ungrateful bastard, it’s a wonder he doesn’t just give up on you and kick you out. Like She did. _

He slumped his head against the window, cool and damp with the condensation from the rain. The rain had often been a comfort to Crowley, reminding him of the worlds first storm, perched on the walls of Eden, sheltered under the wing of his angel. Today, he thought only of armageddon, of the bookshop up in flames and the certainty that he had lost the only being in the universe who he cared about. The torrent of rain hadn’t been enough to quell the flames, flames that he had been certain at the time were Hellfire. 

_ I lost my best friend. _

He shut his eyes and sighed deeply. He could hear Aziraphale humming from the kitchenette, a silly little song; he always hummed when he was worried. He didn’t want his angel to worry. Not about anything, least of all him. 

_ It’s you. You corrupt everything you come into contact with, and you’ll corrupt him too, with your sadness and your evil. You’ll make him fall one day. _

His thoughts were interrupted as soft hands curled around his own. His eyes flew open as he jerked back weakly, and he saw his angel, looking at him with concern and such unfiltered love it made Crowley’s chest ache.

“Sorry my dear, I didn’t mean to startle you. I called your name, but I suppose you were lost in thought, weren’t you?” Aziraphale said softly, fighting to keep his voice calm and steady. He picked up one of the two mugs on a tray he had set down, the black twin to his favourite angel-winged mug, and pressed it into his lover's hands. Crowley’s finger curled around it weakly, and Aziraphale saw the faintest flicker of a smile contort his face.

“Thanks, ‘Zira.” He murmured, so quietly Aziraphale hardly caught it. 

“Of course, darling.” He replied as the demon turned away again to face the window. He sighed and brought his hand to rest gently on Crowley’s shoulder. “Love, please talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” Crowley was somewhat taken aback and turned to lock eyes with his angel.

“I’m fine, Angel.”

“No, you’re not.” Aziraphale replied, matter-of-factly. Crowley blinked in surprise, and then sadly smiled.

“No, I’m not. But I will be, eventually.” 

“Well, would you be able to tell me what’s wrong?” The angel asked, patiently. Crowley sighed. Aziraphale watched him as he opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and clamped it shut, teeth fiddling with his lower lip. He brought a hand up and around Crowley’s shoulders and ran it through his hair. The demon sighed, allowing his head to be guided down onto the angel's shoulder.

“It’s...just hard, sometimes. Sometimes I just can’t summon the energy to move or speak. The voice just gets louder and I’m too exhausted to ignore it.” He mumbled.

_ He doesn’t need to know this; all you’re going to do is upset him. What, do you want him to pity you? You’re a  _ demon _ , you’re meant to suffer for eternity. Don’t make him suffer too when he hasn’t done anything. He’s an angel, he’s  _ good. _ You don’t deserve his love and compassion.  _

He squeezed his eyes shut against the harsh words, and turned his face inwards towards the love of his life. 

“The...voice?” Aziraphale questioned.

“You know...just my mind, my thoughts. Being loud.”

“What is it saying? Your mind?”

_ You’re a waste of space. He’d be better and happier without you dragging him down and having to look after you. If you really loved him you’d leave him, but you won’t. Because you’re selfish and pathetic. _

“It’s just not being particularly kind to me.” Aziraphale nodded carefully and softly ran his fingers through his lover's hair. 

“How often does this happen?” He asked slowly. Crowley thought for a moment.

“It depends on the circumstances. I mean, it’s always  _ there _ , and sometimes I barely even hear it, it’s just every now and then it’s...harder to ignore. But it’s okay, I’m fi-” he paused, then opened his eyes slowly, “it...it’ll pass, angel.”

“What can I do? Whilst it passes?” Aziraphale murmured, planting a kiss into his lover's fiery locks. Crowley sighed contentedly. 

“Honestly, it’s okay. I don’t want to t-take up your time or make you upset. I’ll be okay, I just need to work it out.” He said, stumbling over his words in an effort to get them out as quickly as possible. The  _ last  _ thing he wanted was for Aziraphale to waste his time taking care of him, like he was a baby. To his surprise, Aziraphale only pulled him closer, turning so he could cradle the demons head under his chin. 

“Of course, my darling. But is it alright if I stay anyways?” Aziraphale asked softly, wrapping both arms firmly around his lover, being sure not to spill the hot chocolate. Crowley gasped lightly, but leaned into the embrace. He could feel Aziraphale’s love pouring out of him, lighting up the room. It felt like grace, like heaven. Except all for him. He felt tears burn behind his eyes.

“If you’d like.”

They stayed like that for a little while, Aziraphale running a soothing hand up and down Crowley’s spine as he reluctantly took a sip of his cocoa (which really was  _ rather  _ good - he heavily attributed this to the brandy that Aziraphale had splashed in) and tried desperately not to cry. After about five minutes, he stopped trying. Aziraphale rocked him slowly, murmuring comforts into his ear, but never asking him to be quiet, which only made him cry harder. He was so  _ patient  _ and  _ kind,  _ and he could hardly take it. He dropped his cocoa, which miraculously landed intact with the cocoa still inside the mug on the floor beside the sofa, and wrapped his arms tightly around the angel, burying his face into his shoulder which he could feel was beginning to become damp. 

And the thing was the voice didn’t go away, but it did get quieter. It got quiet enough that he could allow some of the light that poured from Aziraphale to shine through. He gasped with relief and felt himself go boneless against the angel who, anticipating this, threaded his hand through under his legs and picked him up in a bridal carry. Crowley clung to him as if he were all that was left in the universe. He felt himself being lowered into their bed, and with a click of Aziraphale’s fingers, he was dressed in soft, warm pyjamas. They smelt of clean linen.

Aziraphale climbed in after him, dressed similarly and embraced him again, now both lying face to face. 

“What did I do...to deserve you?” Crowley choked out.

“Nothing at all, my dear.” Aziraphale breathed out, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which the demon quickly returned. 

Crowley could still hear the rain outside, but this time he didn’t see Eden or the day of The Apocolypse That Wasn’t, but he saw himself and the angel he loved, dancing (badly) in the closed shop, sharing their first, awkward kiss. 

This wouldn’t be the last of Crowley’s low moods, and nor did it cure his mind. But for the first time in the last few days, he felt okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm looking to post more short Good Omens fics so let me know how I did!


End file.
